Featured! http://featureauthor.blog.com Mon, 26 Sep 2005 00:00:00 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.7 en hourly 1 Who is Robert Louis Stevenson? http://featureauthor.blog.com/2005/09/26/who-is-robert-louis-stevenson/ http://featureauthor.blog.com/2005/09/26/who-is-robert-louis-stevenson/#comments Mon, 26 Sep 2005 00:00:00 +0000 kontikiman  

 

 

 

 

"You haven't read Treasure Island!"

That is a familar line from the movie On Golden Pond.  It is hard to believe so many have missed what many call the all time best adventure story ever written!

It's a story for boys - strong healthy boys who like plenty of action. But it was written by a man who had been weak and sickly his whole life, and had never been able to romp and play with his friends.

Robert Louis Stevenson had a stepson and they became really good friends. They played imaginitive war games using tin soldiers and a huge map laid upon the floor. It was on one such day after a fun pretend battle that Stevenson's stepson said, "I wish you would write a good story just for me."

Stevenson asked him, "What kind of story are you talking about?"

The boy replied, "Oh you know, maybe one with pirates, and fights and lots of action. But a story with NO women!"

"No women?" asked Stevenson. "Why not?"

"Because they are always afraid a fellow is going to get hurt" replied his stepson.  Stevenson chuckled, and shortly thereafter he wrote his classic tale Treasure Island.

Make it your goal to learn more about Robert Louis Stevenson and his books and to read Treasure Island this year! 

Other books by Robert Louis Stevenson:

Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

A Child's Garden of Verses

Kidnapped

The Body-Snatcher

 

Quotes by Robert Louis Stevenson

A friend is a gift you give yourself.

 

Judge each day not by the harvest you reap but by the seeds you plant.

 

Keep your fears to yourself but share your courage with others.

 

No man is useless while he has a friend.

 

Once you are married, there is nothing for you, not even suicide, but to be good.

 

The cruelest lies are often told in silence.

 

The difficulty of literature is not to write, but to write what you mean; not to affect your reader, but to affect him precisely as you wish.

 

There is only one difference between a long life and a good dinner: that, in the dinner, the sweets come last.

 

To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive.

 

To become what we are capable of becoming is the only end in life.

 

You can give without loving, but you can never love without giving.

 

The Land of Counterpane
By Robert Louis Stevenson

When I was sick and lay a-bed,
I had two pillows at my head,
And all my toys beside me lay
To keep me busy all the day.

And sometimes for an hour or so
I watched my leaden soldiers go,
With different uniforms and drills,
Among the bed-clothes, through the hills;

And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
All up and down among the sheets;
Or brought my trees and houses out,
And planted cities all about.

I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow-hill,
And sees about him dale and plain,
The pleasant land of counterpane.

Windy Nights
By Robert Louis Stevenson

Whenever the moon and the stars are set,
Whenever the wind is high,
All night long in the dark and wet,
A man goes riding by.
Late in the night when the fires are out,
Why does he gallop and gallop about?

Whenever the trees are crying aloud,
And ships are tossed at sea,
By, on the highway, low and loud,
By at the gallop goes he.
By at the gallop he goes, and then
By he comes back at the gallop again.

The Moon
By Robert Louis Stevenson

The moon has a face like the clock in the hall;
She shines on thieves on the garden wall,
On streets and fields and harbour quays,
And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.

The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse,
The howling dog by the door of the house,
The bat that lies in bed at noon,
All love to be out by the light of the moon.

But all of the things that belong to the day
Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way;
And flowers and children close their eyes
Till up in the morning the sun shall rise.

 

The Cow
By Robert Louis Stevenson

The friendly cow, all red and white,
I love with all my heart:
She gives cream with all her might,
To eat with apple-tart.

She wanders lowing here and there,
And yet she cannot stray,
All in the pleasant open air,
The pleasant light of day;

And blown by all the winds that pass
And wet with all the showers,
She walks among the meadow grass
And eats the meadow flowers

My Shadow
By Robert Louis Stevenson

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow-
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an India-rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.

He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see;
I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

Where Go The Boats?
By Robert Louis Stevenson

Dark brown is the river,
Golden is the sand.
It flows along for ever,
With trees on either hand.

Green leaves a-floating,
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine a-boating-
Where will all come home?

On goes the river
And out past the mill,
Away down the valley,
Away down the hill.

Away down the river,
A hundred miles or more,
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore.

Young Night Thought
By Robert Louis Stevenson

All night long, and every night,
When my mamma puts out the light,
I see the people marching by,
As plain as day, before my eye.

Armies and emperors and kings,
All carrying different kinds of things,
And marching in so grand a way,
You never saw the like by day.

So fine a show was never seen
At the great circus on the green;
For every kind of beast and man
Is marching in that caravan.

At first they move a little slow,
But faster and faster on they go,
And still beside them close I keep
Until we reach the town of sleep.

The Land of Nod
By Robert Louis Stevenson

From breakfast on all through the day
At home among my friends I stay;
But every night I go abroad
Afar into the land of Nod.

All by myself I have to go,
With none to tell me what to do-
All alone beside the streams
And up the mountain-sides of dreams.

The strangest things are there for me,
Both things to eat and things to see,
And many frightening sights abroad
Till morning in the land of Nod.

Try as I like to find the way,
I never can get back by day,
Nor can remember plain and clear
The curious music that I hear.

 

Foreign Lands
By Robert Louis Stevenson

Up into the cherry-tree
Who should climb but little me?
I held the trunk with both my hands
And looked abroad on foreign lands.

I saw the next-door garden lie,
Adorned with flowers before my eye.
And many pleasant places more
That I had never seen before.

I saw the dimpling river pass
And be the sky's blue looking-glass;
The dusty roads go up and down
With people tramping into town.

If I could find a higher tree
Farther and farther I should see,
To where the grown-up river slips
Into the sea among the ships.

To where the roads on either hand
Lead onward into fairy land,
Where all the children dine at five,
And all the playthings come alive.

A Few Shorter Poems
By Robert Louis Stevenson

Rain

The rain is falling all around,
It falls on field and tree,
It rains on the umbrellas here,
And on the ships at sea.

At the Seaside

When I was down beside the sea
A wooden spade they gave to me
To dig the sandy shore.
My holes were empty like a cup,
In every hole the sea came up,
Till it could come no more.

Time to Rise

A birdie with a yellow bill
Hopped upon my window-sill.
Cocked his shining eye and said:
'Aint you 'shamed, you sleepy-head?'
]]>

 

 

 

 

 

“You haven’t read Treasure Island!”

That is a familar line from the movie On Golden Pond.  It is hard to believe so many have missed what many call the all time best adventure story ever written!

It’s a story for boys - strong healthy boys who like plenty of action. But it was written by a man who had been weak and sickly his whole life, and had never been able to romp and play with his friends.

Robert Louis Stevenson had a stepson and they became really good friends. They played imaginitive war games using tin soldiers and a huge map laid upon the floor. It was on one such day after a fun pretend battle that Stevenson’s stepson said, “I wish you would write a good story just for me.”

Stevenson asked him, “What kind of story are you talking about?”

The boy replied, “Oh you know, maybe one with pirates, and fights and lots of action. But a story with NO women!”

“No women?” asked Stevenson. “Why not?”

“Because they are always afraid a fellow is going to get hurt” replied his stepson.  Stevenson chuckled, and shortly thereafter he wrote his classic tale Treasure Island.

Make it your goal to learn more about Robert Louis Stevenson and his books and to read Treasure Island this year! 

Other books by Robert Louis Stevenson:

Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

A Child’s Garden of Verses

Kidnapped

The Body-Snatcher

 

Quotes by Robert Louis Stevenson

A friend is a gift you give yourself.

 

Judge each day not by the harvest you reap but by the seeds you plant.

 

Keep your fears to yourself but share your courage with others.

 

No man is useless while he has a friend.

 

Once you are married, there is nothing for you, not even suicide, but to be good.

 

The cruelest lies are often told in silence.

 

The difficulty of literature is not to write, but to write what you mean; not to affect your reader, but to affect him precisely as you wish.

 

There is only one difference between a long life and a good dinner: that, in the dinner, the sweets come last.

 

To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive.

 

To become what we are capable of becoming is the only end in life.

 

You can give without loving, but you can never love without giving.

 

The Land of Counterpane
By Robert Louis Stevenson

When I was sick and lay a-bed,
I had two pillows at my head,
And all my toys beside me lay
To keep me busy all the day.

And sometimes for an hour or so
I watched my leaden soldiers go,
With different uniforms and drills,
Among the bed-clothes, through the hills;

And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
All up and down among the sheets;
Or brought my trees and houses out,
And planted cities all about.

I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow-hill,
And sees about him dale and plain,
The pleasant land of counterpane.

Windy Nights
By Robert Louis Stevenson

Whenever the moon and the stars are set,
Whenever the wind is high,
All night long in the dark and wet,
A man goes riding by.
Late in the night when the fires are out,
Why does he gallop and gallop about?

Whenever the trees are crying aloud,
And ships are tossed at sea,
By, on the highway, low and loud,
By at the gallop goes he.
By at the gallop he goes, and then
By he comes back at the gallop again.

The Moon
By Robert Louis Stevenson

The moon has a face like the clock in the hall;
She shines on thieves on the garden wall,
On streets and fields and harbour quays,
And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.

The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse,
The howling dog by the door of the house,
The bat that lies in bed at noon,
All love to be out by the light of the moon.

But all of the things that belong to the day
Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way;
And flowers and children close their eyes
Till up in the morning the sun shall rise.

 

The Cow
By Robert Louis Stevenson

The friendly cow, all red and white,
I love with all my heart:
She gives cream with all her might,
To eat with apple-tart.

She wanders lowing here and there,
And yet she cannot stray,
All in the pleasant open air,
The pleasant light of day;

And blown by all the winds that pass
And wet with all the showers,
She walks among the meadow grass
And eats the meadow flowers

My Shadow
By Robert Louis Stevenson

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow-
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an India-rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so little that there’s none of him at all.

He hasn’t got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close beside me, he’s a coward you can see;
I’d think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

Where Go The Boats?
By Robert Louis Stevenson

Dark brown is the river,
Golden is the sand.
It flows along for ever,
With trees on either hand.

Green leaves a-floating,
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine a-boating-
Where will all come home?

On goes the river
And out past the mill,
Away down the valley,
Away down the hill.

Away down the river,
A hundred miles or more,
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore.

Young Night Thought
By Robert Louis Stevenson

All night long, and every night,
When my mamma puts out the light,
I see the people marching by,
As plain as day, before my eye.

Armies and emperors and kings,
All carrying different kinds of things,
And marching in so grand a way,
You never saw the like by day.

So fine a show was never seen
At the great circus on the green;
For every kind of beast and man
Is marching in that caravan.

At first they move a little slow,
But faster and faster on they go,
And still beside them close I keep
Until we reach the town of sleep.

The Land of Nod
By Robert Louis Stevenson

From breakfast on all through the day
At home among my friends I stay;
But every night I go abroad
Afar into the land of Nod.

All by myself I have to go,
With none to tell me what to do-
All alone beside the streams
And up the mountain-sides of dreams.

The strangest things are there for me,
Both things to eat and things to see,
And many frightening sights abroad
Till morning in the land of Nod.

Try as I like to find the way,
I never can get back by day,
Nor can remember plain and clear
The curious music that I hear.

 

Foreign Lands
By Robert Louis Stevenson

Up into the cherry-tree
Who should climb but little me?
I held the trunk with both my hands
And looked abroad on foreign lands.

I saw the next-door garden lie,
Adorned with flowers before my eye.
And many pleasant places more
That I had never seen before.

I saw the dimpling river pass
And be the sky’s blue looking-glass;
The dusty roads go up and down
With people tramping into town.

If I could find a higher tree
Farther and farther I should see,
To where the grown-up river slips
Into the sea among the ships.

To where the roads on either hand
Lead onward into fairy land,
Where all the children dine at five,
And all the playthings come alive.

A Few Shorter Poems
By Robert Louis Stevenson

Rain

The rain is falling all around,
It falls on field and tree,
It rains on the umbrellas here,
And on the ships at sea.

At the Seaside

When I was down beside the sea
A wooden spade they gave to me
To dig the sandy shore.
My holes were empty like a cup,
In every hole the sea came up,
Till it could come no more.

Time to Rise

A birdie with a yellow bill
Hopped upon my window-sill.
Cocked his shining eye and said:
‘Aint you ’shamed, you sleepy-head?’
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